


Something in the Way

by sepsis



Category: Jeffrey Dahmer - Fandom, True Crime Community, tcc - Fandom, tcc - serial killer
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Gay Male Character, Handcuffs, Head Injury, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jeffrey Dahmer - Freeform, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Other, POV Second Person, Panic, Reader Death, Reader-Insert, Serial Killers, Takes place in the 90's, Unconscious Sex, male reader - Freeform, tcc, true crime community - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29504253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepsis/pseuds/sepsis
Summary: You sit brooding at a club, trying to figure out what to do now that you have been exiled from your parents' home.That's when a tall, dull-eyed man approaches you.
Relationships: Jeffrey Dahmer/Reader
Kudos: 3





	Something in the Way

**Author's Note:**

> Before you yell at me, please read this:  
> -I DO NOT CONDONE anything any serial killer has done, I didn't try to romanticize anything  
> -I just wrote this as a form of curiosity, maybe like a "how would it feel" experience  
> -I like writing about death and similar themes, so this really isn't an homage towards Dahmer as much as it is a personal fascination  
> -As a gay man, I feel for all the victims and mean in NO WAY to disrespect them with this. I honour them above all, and refused to mention their names jic

You leaned against the wall of the club, feeling the concrete vibrate mutely against your back from the tremors that the music produced. These tremors were felt along the floor as well, though the people around you were too busy dancing and drinking to care for such minute details.   
Hidden within your pocket, your fingers curled, as a craving for alcohol shot through you. You would have certainly indulged these cravings, if you still had the luxury of your parents’ money. However, that luxury had disappeared as soon as they had discovered a triad of homoerotic magazines hidden beneath your bed. From there, you (and a few of your belongings) had been promptly banished from the house. Said belongings did not include cash.

You sighed aloud, knowing that no one would be able to catch it over the upbeat music. You had come to this bar in hopes that it’s vibrant life would infect you as well, and although the sight of men smiling brightly at each other as they danced together did bring you some comfort, you could not shake the uncertainty and worry that often plagued the thoughts of the homeless.

It was then that you felt a hand on your shoulder, and you spun around in surprise to see a tall man smiling shyly at you. He had the scruff of a freshly shaven beard, dull blue eyes hidden behind large glasses, and dirty blond sideswept hair. Though he seemed a bit older than you, his jagged handsomeness aided him in appearing less predatory. He said something, but his voice was too soft to overpower the music. You inclined your head at him, and he lowered his lips to your ear, so that you were momentarily able to hear his gentle voice as he said, “would you like to step outside with me?”  
You pulled back, surprised that another man was showing interest in you. Eagerly, before he decided to change his mind, you nodded. He smiled in response, and led you out of the bar.

Compared to the bustling club, the night was almost startlingly quiet, and you shivered as you left the warmth of dancing bodies behind you. You looked up at the man, who had begun to speak.  
“You looked so lonesome, leaning against the wall like that,” he chuckled, “I just had to say hi.”  
A little embarrassed, you smiled back and replied, “this was my first time here, I was just nervous is all…”  
The man raised his brows, asking, “are you new to this area?”  
You had noticed that he had been slowly walking in a certain direction, and impetuously trotted along beside him as you answered, “oh, no, I just… finally had a chance to experience the gay life here.”  
It was quite dark now, and you could only capture brief glimpses of his face when the streetlamps washed him with their golden light. His face was strangely blank as he asked, “you’re quite young, did someone introduce you to this club?”  
“Ah, I just saw flyers lying around, and with my parents not bearing over me anymore, I felt the courage to come visit.”   
The man inquired about your parents, and you explained your situation. As you talked, the emotion came back into his face, though you could not name exactly what emotion it was. Perhaps it was excitement that laced his voice as he offered, “well, if you haven’t got a place to stay, then why don’t you sleep in my apartment tonight?”   
It was a clever way to ask for sex, but because you really did need a place to stay, you decided that accepting his offer was the smartest decision.

The two of you continued to exchange details, as you entered a dingy apartment complex.  
“By the way, what’s your name?” you asked, as the two of you walked down carpeted halls before stopping at an unassuming door.  
The man pushed his key into the lock of a door adorned with the numbers, _‘213.’  
_ “I’m Jeffrey Dahmer,” he replied, smiling emptily at you.

Upon entering his apartment, a rank odour was the first thing you noticed. You fought the urge to wrinkle your nose, and tried to interest yourself with the fish tank as a distraction.  
 _He did smell heavily of booze,_ you thought. Maybe he was a drunkard who could not care for himself? Excuses and assumptions ran through your head, while Jeffrey busied himself in the kitchen.  
“Would you like some rum?” he called from the kitchen, and despite yourself, you straightened your back as you recalled the craving you had felt at the club. “Oh, would I!”

You made your way to the bedroom, looking around politely before sitting on the edge of his bed. It was a cheap, rough bed, but infinitely better than the alternatives that the streets offered. You examined the dirty walls, which bore faded, unidentifiable stains, which matched the rest of the apartment complex.  
Jeffrey made his way into the room, setting down a glass of rum on the desk beside you. You hoped that you did not look too greedy as you grabbed it off of the dresser and gulped it down. The rum tasted of nothing, and burned your throat as it made it's way down your esophagus. You coughed lightly as you put the nearly-empty glass down.  
Jeffrey watched you drink for a moment, before tilting his head back and emptying his drink shockingly fast. You decided not to comment on this, though it did confirm your previous presumptions on his alcoholism. 

Perhaps the rum had decided to kick in then, for you could not stop your face from flushing a bright red as you were suddenly reminded of your predicament.  
“U-Um…!” you said, a little more loudly than you had anticipated. Though, you could have said nothing at all, since the man’s attention was already on you.  
“I just— I think you should know that…”   
You refused to make eye contact, and instead stared at the glass in his hands as you mumbled, “well… I’ve never done it with a man before…”

Jeffrey set his empty glass down, and it was only then that you tentatively peered at his face. His eyes were as dull as they had been back at the bar, but now, the rest of his face matched as well.  
“Doesn’t matter,” he responded curtly. “Just lay down,”   
You stiffened at this sudden change in demeanour, but your limbs were (suddenly) achingly tired, so you obeyed. Besides, you supposed that you could not expect a Prince Charming from a man who would take you home before knowing your name.  
Still, despite this callousness, you could not help but feel excited. After all, it was your first time being intimate with another man after so many years of suppressing your homosexual feelings.  
He made quick work of removing your clothes, and although it took him longer, he was sure to completely remove your shirt as well, so that you were fully unclothed beneath him. It was peculiar— _wouldn’t it have been quicker to just leave the shirt on?_ — but because he was more experienced, you decided against asking any questions.

Jeffrey gave you a brisk warning (though he did not wait for a response) before entering you. You gasped, and clutched at his coarse sheets as black spots suddenly burst into your vision. _Was this supposed to happen?_ You began to worry, but resisting became more and more difficult as the seconds passed. It was as though someone had tied weights to your arms— lifting them off the bed seemed impossible. Those dark spots were becoming bigger and bigger, until you could no longer see Jeffrey’s concentrated face. The last sense to fade was your hearing, and you wished his haggard breaths were not the last thing you could hear before you slipped out of consciousness.

You awoke slowly, the grimy ceiling light stinging your sensitive eyes. Alongside your consciousness, ebbed back a slow, throbbing ache to your body.  
An involuntary groan slipped past your lips, and you drowsily tugged your hand away from the bedhead, to which it was attached by handcuffs. The constant, dull throb in your head made processing your surroundings difficult, though you were able to recognize that you were still on that scratchy, uncomfortable bed. Around you, the sheets were coloured with fresh bloodstains, ranging from small droplets to large patches of sangria.  
You raised your head slowly, your bleary eyes trying to make sense of the situation, as you peered through the open door of the bedroom.

Suddenly, the blood in your veins turned to ice. Your breath was caught in your throat, as your heart hammered against your ribcage, unable to understand what you were witnessing. Outside the door was Jeffrey, calmly sawing through the wrist of a severed arm with a butcher knife. You jerked awake, a scream trying to leave your throat, though the only sound you could produce was a choked gasp.  
At this noise, Jeffrey’s head snapped up. You flinched, urgently tugging on the handcuffs as he slowly rose to his feet.  
He was in the room in seconds, knife still in hand. You tried to get off the bed, but any sudden movement sent a wave of pain so sharp, it would leave you momentarily blinded.  
“Can you speak?” he questioned, to which you did not— _could not_ —respond. He eyed you for a moment longer, his fingers flexing over the handle of the knife. Your struggles increased, and despite the effort you were putting into your thrashing, you realized that you were hardly moving at all. A low chuckle escaped from deep within him, before he left you and returned to the arm. This time, he shut the door behind him.

Your gasps became more strangled and panicky, and your clammy hands helped none. You looked down at yourself, realizing you were still fully naked, and littered with unfamiliar bruises. A small stream of blood had been trickling down your chest— but from where?  
With your singular free hand, you shakily felt your neck, and though it was just as sore as the rest of you, it did not hold any wounds.  
With difficulty, you raised your hand to your face, gingerly trailing your fingers over your features. Blood was smeared against your cheek, but this still was not the source of the wound.  
Finally, with your last remaining effort, you felt your head. The tips of your fingers lightly brushed against what felt like the curve of a circle at the top of your forehead, and when you peered at your shaking hands, you could see fresh blood on it.   
  
A head wound. 

A _hole._

Another strangled noise of horror left you, and at the same time, the sounds of rustling came from outside the bedroom. Your widened eyes darted to the door as it opened, revealing Jeffrey again, but this time, with his arms covered in bits of melanated flesh.  
He neared you, and you sluggishly pulled away, desperately wishing that everything was not so hazy as you finally managed to utter a weary, _"No..."_   
At this response, Jeffrey stiffened, then let out an audible sigh as he climbed onto the bed.   
You weakly kicked your feet at him, though this only caused spikes of pain to erupt in your head, and did nothing in turn to Jeffrey.  
“Not enough acid…” he muttered under his breath, though he was already close enough for these words to be audible to you.  
 _Acid…?_ You thought, blearily.

Those dull, lifeless eyes bore into you, as large hands began to wrap themselves around your throat.  
Terror and useless energy flooded every inch of your body, as you realized that you were going to become the next severed limb in the living room. Despite knowing that you were going to die, your weak body did nothing to help you fight, and it was only in that moment that you realized that you had been drugged.  
Jeffrey’s fingers tightened around your throat, pressing painfully into your carotid artery. Despite the headsplitting pain erupting from within your skull, you flailed your (free) limbs desperately, choked cries leaving your body sporadically.  
His mouth tightened into a thin line, and his arms shook with effort and adrenaline, as you widened your tear-filled eyes and groggily dragged your nails across his arms.  
Suddenly, the suffocating feeling in your throat lifted, and your entire body was awash with a sudden feeling of peace. The yellowing light that had been stinging your eyes vanished, as did the throbbing in your skull.

He watched you as your last breaths finally shuddered out of you, and at last, your kicking ceased as you fell limp.

You would never know of the animalistic way he would devour your thighs and arms, and perhaps that was for the best.


End file.
